


some people use their imagination

by ShippingEverything



Category: Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: (its ernst), Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast, Hanschen And Thea Are Siblings, I think we can all guess whos the beast and whos the beauty, M/M, Trans Male Character, but mostly this is hernst, mild transphobia in the second chapter and maybe later too, there may be some bg pirate queens or melchiritz, there will be flowernst elements bc im trash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-03 14:55:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5295575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippingEverything/pseuds/ShippingEverything
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Or: The Beauty and The Beast au that no one asked for but I wrote anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prolouge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> //shrugs
> 
> i went to go see a play at my sister's school and i am weak okay
> 
> title from the first song, when gaston is complaining about the lack of pictures in belle's book

Once upon a time, there was a prince. He was handsome, his hair a rich gold and his eyes a clear blue, but he was also cruel and cold to all. He was known to have no mercy and  he was feared throughout the kingdom, caring only about himself and his own gain.

One day, an old woman came upon his castle. She was weary, clothes worn with the wear and tear that comes with being a vagabond.

“Good prince,” She called, “Please allow me to stay in your castle for the night?”

“What can you give me?”

“I have naught but a single rose.”

The prince scoffed, "A rose? And I suppose you don't have a secret, more... _appealing_ traveling companion?" 

"You shouldn't judge someone by their appearance, young man," She began, "True beauty is-"

The prince turned his back on her. “Come back with something of value, wench, and maybe I’ll give you refuge. Be gone from my sight.”

The woman sneered and a bright light surrounded her. When the prince turned back, he was shocked to see a beautiful enchantress in her place. “You fool! I gave you a chance to change your ways, but now you will _suffer_. I curse you, until you can love and be loved in return, despite your appearance,” She cackled as the prince turned into a hideous beast, tossing her rose at him. “You have until the last petal falls to reverse the curse, or it will become permanent.”

And with that she disappeared. Her spell fell over the entire castle, all its occupants changing from their human forms to something else. Years passed before the petals began to fall from the rose, but by then the castle was overrun by weeds and in disarray. The prince had gave up all hope.

After all, who could learn to love a beast?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter will maybe be longer???? idk man i'm just trying to do a thing where i 1. actually finish a multichap, and 2. write and post every day.


	2. very different from the rest of us

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Introducing, our darling protagonist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *waves arms vaguely*

Ernst is nice. They used to live in a civilised city, where Ernst went to etiquette lessons and was around people who pretended to be different constantly, so he’s good at playing the part. He’s polite and unobtrusive and people often mistake that for genuine kindness, which is fine with him, but he wants it to be clear that the only reason that he’s still here, listening to Bobby Maler regal him with a greatly exaggerated story from the hunt is because he doesn’t want to be rude, not because he likes Bobby or because he’s kind.

“And the deer was _this big_ ,” Bobby is saying, gesturing towards the flower cart. The deer--or rather, the doe--that Bobby killed was actually sick and feeble and Ernst knows because he had to help the women at the Tavern throw out the useless creature, but he just nods.

“Well, Mr. Maler, that is something! But I _really_ have to return this book, before the book lender moves onto the next town,” Ernst says, inching away. Before he can escape, Bobby snatches the book from him.

“But there aren’t any pictures! God, why would you waste your time on a book without anything pretty?”  
Ernst forces a laugh, “Some of us prefer to use their imaginations, Mr. Maler.”

“That’s the problem with your father. He just lets you run wild, daydreaming and talking to Mrs. Gabor’s sheep and _reading_ ,” Bobby scoffs and Ernst has to fight to keep his smile up. “If you were my wife, you’d stay in the kitchen and you wouldn’t have time for all these silly _ideas_.”

Ernst’s face drops into a scowl. He stomps on Bobby’s foot and elbows him in the stomach, snatching the book back. “I will _never_ be your wife, nor your husband, nor your _anything_ , Bobby Maler, as long as I live of my own free will!”

He stomps away while Bobby is whining about the pain. He hates the country, he hates this village, and he _despises_ Bobby fucking Maler.

* * *

 

By the time he reaches the book lender’s cart, he’s calmed down. In his old home, there had been a fully stocked library, but here in the middle of nowhere, they have an old man that drops by once a week with a few old, badly maintained books, usually the same ones week to week. It’s not ideal, especially since Ernst devours books like he’s a starving man, but it’s better than nothing. And besides, Mr. Bergmann is sweet and he likes Ernst.

“Ah, Ernst! Are you done already?”

He actually finished the book four days ago, but he just nods. “Oh, it was as good as you said it would be, Mr. Bergmann. Anything new?”

Mr. Bergmann smiles apologetically. “We got something, a donation, but it was picked up yesterday. Maybe next week-”

“It’s fine. I’ll just borrow…” Ernst’s hand hovers over the cart, before plucking out a book. “This one!”

“Are you sure? You’ve read it so many times!” Mr. Bergmann says and then, when Ernst shrugs in reply, “Why don’t you take it?”

“I couldn’t!” Ernst says automatically, though his heart jumps at the idea of being able to keep his favorite book forever.

“I insist. No one else will enjoy it as much as you do.”

Ernst thanks Mr. Bergmann purposely and goes off, his head in his book and his heart soaring. He’d never owned books, back in the city, because they had neither the space nor the money. He supposes that, sometimes, this village _does_ have it’s advantages.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed!


	3. shows the world out there one day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> more of my fave son and an introduction to the other side of things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also known as, i hate writing for melchior so much why do i keep doing this to myself jesus will i ever learn

Ernst loves his father. He never knew his mother and he’s always found solace and security in his father, so when he comes home and there’s thick, grey smoke pouring out the door-- _again_ \--he tries to be as understanding as possible.

“Dad? What did we say about inventing indoors?”

Mr. Robel pokes his head around the corner. He’s in disarray, covered in ash and his bangs are charred. “Not to? But the fair is tomorrow and the parts I needed were in here, and-”

Ernst clicks his tongue, wiping his father’s soot-stained glasses on his shirt, “Nevermind, what are you making this time?”

Mr. Robel brightens up, running back and wheeling out a… Well, Ernst supposes that the best word for it is a _contraption_. He pushes some buttons and pulls a cord and it starts making clunking noises and then… moves on it’s own. Ernst’s eyes widen in shock.

“How does it do that?”  
“It’s incredibly complicated, Ernst, and I’d bore you with the explanation, but I like to call it a _motor_.”

It’s then, of course, that the ‘motor’ starts steaming and shaking erratically. Mr. Robel shouts in surprise, but he can’t stop the machine before it runs into the wall with a disconcerting thud.

“Well,” Ernst says, delicately, “At least you have until tomorrow to iron out those kinks?”

* * *

Melchior hates this castle. He was literally only here to visit Moritz and hammer out a treaty, and then Hanschen had to go and get _cursed_ , so now he’s a candelabra. It’s not the worst existence, but he wants to break this curse and get out; having to keep track of three different flames so he doesn’t burn the whole castle down is not fun. Unfortunately, Hanschen is still the pickiest guy ever, even when he’s a literal monster.

“Look, you can’t expect to meet your True Love if you’re hiding away in a spooky castle,” Melchior says, hopping to keep up as Hanschen stomps through the castle, “And I don’t want to be a glorified lamp for the rest of my life.”

Hanschen snarls--but that’s his resting face nowadays, so it’s impossible to know if he really means to--and says, “What, I should just go out like _this_? Your ‘Shame isn’t real’ spiel was dumb before and it’s even moreso now.”

Melchior huffs, his flames flickering in annoyance. “There was a young lady here three months ago and you roared until she ran away. You’re not _trying_.”

“Hans, I swear to god, if you let me be like this forever, I _will_ kill you.”

Hanschen’s back stiffens as the voice cuts in. Melchior goes ahead until he can see the reflection of his lights twinkling and a vague impression of a girl--not something that he can’t quite focus on, but she’s definitely there. Thea Rilow, formerly Hanschen’s beloved sister, currently a wall mirror. She’s the only mirror still intact in the whole castle, and as such Hanschen avoids her like the plague.

“I hadn’t realized that we were near you, Thea,” Hanschen says. His back is turned to Thea, but his voice is soft.

“Well, brother dear, I can’t exactly move,” The girl in the mirror shifts closer, but when Melchior tries to look at her directly, she disappears. “My part of the wall is always in the same place.”

“Well-”

“Hans,” Thea says, appearing solidly in the mirror for once, like it’s a hyperrealistic portrait and not her pretty glass prison, “Hanschen, you have to promise me that if a chance comes, you won’t let it slip away. You have to _try_.”

Melchior can see, from the set of his shoulders and the shifting of his feet, that Hanschen is uncomfortable. He rakes a giant paw through his mane.

“I promise,” Hanschen says finally, with a sigh. “If there’s a chance that we can break the curse, I will take it.”

Thea smiles and flickers back out of sight. Melchior doesn’t say what he’s thinking--that the likelihood of someone just popping into the castle, some who’d be perfect to break the curse, is incredibly low--because getting Hanschen to promise to try? It’s enough of a miracle that he’s not willing to ruin it with reality. He says a soft goodbye to Thea and hops after Hanschen, praying that something will happen. _He just needs a chance, just a single lucky break..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for thea, please think of any time you've been looking in a mirror and something moved in the corner of your eye (Or just reference the Doctor Who episode I stole the idea from *shrugs*).


	4. promise to stay here forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we meet more people and the plot gets rolling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i missed yesterday but maybe i'll write another chapter during study hall and post it?????? we shall see. the real issue with this whole chapter a day thing is that i like writing long, involved chapters and i cannot do that in a day's time so i have to force myself to stop writing and it's hard.

When the door squeaks open, Ilse doesn’t hide or go still like everyone else. She shushes the boy, ignoring the shock and disbelief on his face, because Hanschen is in a bit of a mood--There had apparently been a man in the house earlier?--and she doesn’t want to draw his attention.

“You are a _paintbrush_ ,” The boy squeaks, and _duh_ , Ilse can tell that she’s a paintbrush and she doesn’t need reminding, thank you very much.

“And you’re noisy. The prince is upset because of that man and-”  
“A man?” The boy gasps, “I’m looking for a man!”

Moritz stops hiding long enough to sigh, “Aren’t we all.”

The boy jumps. “That clock just talked. First a paintbrush, then the clock. What’s next, the bookshelves will start reciting me poetry?”

Georg, because he’s a little shit, plays a quick tune and sings, “Roses are red, violets are blue!”

The boy actually screams this time. Ilse wishes she had a head again, so she could bang it on the wall. A flurry of heavy footfalls is all the warning they get before Hanschen appears at the top of the grand staircase.

“What’s going on here?” He growls. The boy apparently has some sort of self-preservation instinct because he shrinks into the shadows so he can’t be seen.

“Nothing,” Ilse assures him, “Just a bit of singing. You know how Georg is, he always wants to lighten the mood.”

Wendla bustles in from the kitchen, Martha hopping after her. “Are we going to give that man some tea? I’ve been bubbling on the stovetop and I think I’ve finally figured out how to keep the leaves from going up the tea spout!”

Hanschen frowns. “He won’t be getting _anything_ , Wendla. He’s a _prisoner_.”

“You can’t keep people as prisoners!”

Okay, Ilse takes back every complimentary thought she’s had about this boy. He not only yells this, but he steps forward until he’s right in front of the giant, angry beast. _Are all boys this dumb?_

“Who are you?” 

“My name is Ernst Robel,” The boy says, his voice only slightly shaking. “I think you have my father imprisoned and I want you to let him go.”

Hanschen snorts. "He trespassed on my grounds, he should be glad that I didn't  _eat_ him."

Ernst recoils and Ilse rolls her eyes. Hanschen likes to talk big, but he is the fussiest vegan that Ilse has ever see--and as a girl that lived in an _artist's colony_ for four years, that's saying something. 

"Be reasonable, there has to be something else you'd take. We have money, or my father could invent you something, or we could owe you favors, or  _anything_ , just let him go."

Hanschen looks ready to just send the boy away, but Melchior nudges him with his (Thankfully unlit) candlestick. Hanschen doesn't sigh or crack his 'Big bad beast' facade, but Ilse can see that he wants to run a hand--paw--down his face. 

"You could offer yourself?" Hanschen suggest flatly, clearly unexcited about the prospect. 

" _What_?"

Hanschen huffs, "Your father is weak. A younger prisoner would be more... useful." When Ernst's face just gets more angry, Hanschen snarls, "Look, do you want the old man to be free or  _not_?" 

Ernst acts like he's thinking about it, but Ilse can see that it's not even a real choice for him. It's unfortunate, she thinks, that he's going to get this lot in life. He seems like a nice boy.

"Fine," Ernst says eventually, shoulders slumping in defeat, "Let my father go and I will stay with you."


	5. as my life has been altered once

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hanschen pov and ernst throws a tea party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this doesnt correspond to anything in either the play nor the movie but this scene was calling to me and *shrugs*
> 
> i have literally never written ernst with the characterization that he has in this fic and its??? exciting?????????????

Even as Ernst agrees to stay in the castle--to stay with _him_ \--Hanschen can tell that he’s going to be trouble. Regardless, everyone looks proud of him for trying or whatever, so he supposes it’s fine. _And besides,_ He thinks, _how much trouble can one boy cause?_

Half an hour later, he regrets that thought. Ernst has tried to escape five times and now he’s sweet talked his doorknob into not listening to Hanschen.

“What do you _mean_ ‘I can’t come in’?”

The doorknob looks like it would shrug, if it had shoulders. “The visitor is having a tea party right now and you are not invited.”

“Visit-” Hanschen splutters, “He’s a _prisoner_ , just because I didn’t put him in the dungeons doesn’t make him any less of a prisoner.”

“Mmhm,” The doorknob says, raising one of his carved eyebrows. “Anyway, Ernst said you can’t come in, so sorry, Your Highness.”

Hanschen is about to snarl that Ernst doesn’t live here nor is he the master of the house, but Moritz hops up, looking less tightly wound then he has in a long time. “Hi! Is this Wendla’s tea party?”

The doorknob grins and slides open just enough for Moritz to slide in and for Hanschen to see that Wendla has set up a tea tray on Ernst’s bed and that most of his close… staff? Friends? Various household items? Regardless, nearly all of the former people that he’s close to are in there, cozying up with Ernst. Ernst even has the gall to wave at him before the door snaps closed.

“ _What_?” Hanschen asks, bewildered. It’s been less than a day and already this boy is turning everything upside down. “No, honestly, _what is happening?_ ”

The door swings back open and Ernst pokes his head out. “You’re disrupting us and you should leave. _Maybe_ , if you aren’t rude right now, you might get invited to the next tea party.”

Ernst ducks back in, but not before Hanschen can incredulously say, “‘The next one’, this is going to be a _reoccurring_ thing?”

No one replys this time, and Hanschen quickly squishes the part of him that wishes that he could see Ernst again. He turns and heads back towards the West Wing, grumbling all the way. Screw what he said earlier, letting this boy in was the worst mistake that Hanschen has ever made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay! list of what everyone is
> 
> Candelabra: Melchi  
> Clock: Moritz  
> Paintbrush: Ilse  
> Tea Kettle: Wendla  
> Cup: Martha  
> Vanity: Anna  
> Mirror: Thea  
> Piano: Georg  
> Chair: Otto


	6. no one's gloomy or complaining while the flatware's entertaining

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Be Our Guest plays on repeat in my head*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember when this was a daily thing

Wendla is the only one out and about when Ernst tiptoes down the grand staircase. Everyone else is hiding because Hanschen is in a bad mood, because Hanschen is horrible at social interaction and Ernst doesn’t want to eat with him. It may just be because Ernst helped her throw a tea party, her first in _years_ , and because Ernst is likely their last chance to break the spell, but Wendla really likes him. Because of that, she doesn’t call out until he’s off the stairs.

“Ernst?”

He jumps guiltily. “Oh, hi Wendla.”

Wendla is about to ask why he’s down here when his stomach growl. Ernst flushes and crosses his arms. “Do you want something to eat?”

“Please.”

Wendla leads Ernst through the twisting halls of the castle until they reach the kitchen. She whistles--which she hadn’t been able to do as a human, one small thing she enjoys about being a teakettle--and every hops to attention. Except Martha, who runs up and starts bouncing around Ernst.

“You brought the boy!” She chirps happily. Wendla steps into her path before she can run more and crack herself again. After all, Wendla isn’t quite sure how the cracks and chip will display himself once they’re all human again, and she’d really rather not find out how much damage the teacup can take.

“Yes. He’s hungry,” There’s a few cries of protest, one or two ‘But Hanschen said!’s, but Wendla is resolute. “He is our guest, and he shouldn’t be punished because Hanschen is an idiot.”

There’s a gasp and Moritz-- _How did I not notice him there?_ \--hops off the countertop. “We can’t just disobey Hanschen! Have you _seen_ the West Wing?”

Wendla has, actually. She was the first to do so, the first brave enough to venture near the site of Hanschen’s temper tantrum, and she knows that Hanschen would never do that to any of them.

“He is our guest and we are feeding him,” Wendla says simply. When Moritz opens his mouth again, she continues, “If you don’t want to help, Moritz, you can get out.”

Moritz wavers a bit, but he eventually stays, climbing back onto the countertop to survey the chaos as they prepare food. Ernst sits next to them and the two of them talk.

“My father is an inventor, he’s going to change the world,” Ernst says, “That’s why I had to get the Beast to let him go. I… I won’t be missed much in town, and I cannot do much. It’s less important that I’m here, if my father is not.”

Moritz replies, probably something about the way that Ernst refers to Hanschen as ‘The Beast’, but Wendla clicks her tongue. No, this boy should not have to suffer because Hanschen is bad at social interaction.

**Author's Note:**

> [Main Tumblr](http://www.bisexualwilliampoindexter.tumblr.com) | [Writing Blog](http://nacreousglowclouds.tumblr.com/) | [Twitter](http://twitter.com/nerdyfanchick)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


End file.
